


Thunderous Hearts

by Ray_the_Ravenous



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Altair is dense, Fluff without Plot, Jerusalem Bureau, M/M, Sickfic, Thunderstorms, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23927044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_the_Ravenous/pseuds/Ray_the_Ravenous
Summary: Altair hates thunderstorms, Malik on the other hand, loves them.
Relationships: Malik Al-Sayf/Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad
Comments: 5
Kudos: 134





	1. Chapter 1

The rain was pouring outside, the heavy clouds casting a dark shadow over Jerusalem.

Inside the bureau the rumbling of far away thunders could be heard, a hot cup of tea steaming on Malik’s desk. 

He had always loved thunderstorms, they had an oddly soothing effect on him, and he would be enjoying the calming atmosphere, if it weren’t for a particularly drenched prideful Assassin, which was shivering under the rain, trying to shield himself under the little protection the bureau’s garden offered.

The Assassin in question was clutching his knees to his body trying to save that last bit of body heat he still had, hood drawn deep on his face and a grimace of chattering teeth. It surely was a sorry sight.

Malik watched Altair’s shivering form in exasperation. He was going to catch himself a horrid pneumonia only because he was to stubborn to ask for shelter inside his office.

Malik sighed, stepping out in the cold rain holding a blanket over himself.

“Get up Novice, we’re going inside, whether you like it or not” Malik said with determination in his voice. He was done playing around, and he certainly didn’t want to remove Altair’s cold corpse from his garden, just because of his stupidity.

Altair didn’t answer. Actually, he didn’t even spare a glance at Malik; he just kept trembling ignoring him completely.

“Are you still alive or you have finally decided to free the world from your annoying presence?” Malik frowned and nudged him lightly with his foot. The other one flinched slightly but didn’t move otherwise.

Malik knew that Assassins were not supposed to enjoy murder, or act guided by bloodlust, but he was sure that if he were to strangle Altair with the blanket he was carrying, right here right now, he would have felt a dark sense of satisfaction.

He decided to just go for it and grabbed Altair by his arm, putting him on his feet and wrapped the blanket around his shaking shoulders.

The rain started to drip on him, feeling the cool wetness of a thousand droplets.

Altair’s skin was sickly cold and his robes soaking wet. Malik cursed inwardly. If Altair were to fall sick, he would have to deal with a ton of paperwork, worried novices running around and busy doctors messing in his beloved bureau. Of course, there was also the problem of Altair turning in an  immense  pain in his ass, since the man wasn’t really familiar with the concept of sitting still and healing.

The drenched heap or robes that was Altair, didn’t even protest when he was dragged inside the walls of the bureau.

Malik led him to the fireplace where a few embers were still glowing.

“I’m going to fetch some wood and dry clothes, don’t move” He ordered, throwing a couple more dry blankets at the shivering man.

Altair didn’t look at him, but for the first time Malik could see the other’s eyes, since the hood had fallen slightly back. They were skittish and alert, even for someone that knows that they are between safe walls. Then he remembered:

Altair was deathly afraid of thunderstorms.

And for the first time it really hit him. The man looked younger in his anxiety, peaking and flinching at every slightly louder noise coming from outside. He remembered Malik of a scared child, clutching his favorite blanket, trying to fall asleep in a thunderous night.

Something softened in Malik’s chest, and he willed this fluttering warmth to subside, cursing himself for this moment of weakness.

He left the room and went to grab some dry clothes from his private quarters. He picked a loose white undershirt and a pair of washed brown pants, satisfied he headed to the back of the office to fetch some wood for the fireplace, tucking it under his right arm.

He came back and saw Altair wrapper in a mountain of blankets, only his face was emerging from the colorful layers. Malik almost laughed at the sight and placed the clean clothes on what he assumed was Altair’s lap over the fluffy monstrosity the man built around himself.

He turned around to rekindle the flames, and heard the soft rustling of clothing, followed by a wet sounding “splotch “on the floor. His bureau’s floor. What an animal.

When he was sure that Altair was fully dressed he turned around, sparing a glance at him, and headed towards his desk, where the tea he brewed earlier had already grew cold. Malik sighed and stared at Altair’s back, while the other was burying himself again under a load of blankets.

Suddenly a white cold light filled the room, followed by a loud earth-shaking thunder. Altair jumped, actually jumped, and gasped softly, terrified.

Malik smirked and thought of making a snarky remark, but then he saw Altair’s petrified expression and closed his mouth shut. He did not really understand what got over him, but a second later, he found himself whispering in a soft voice, as not to scare him further. 

“They can’t hurt you Altair. It’s just a nice play of light and noise.”

Altair turned to look at him in the eyes, this time staring right through him, gold piercing through black, with an underlying fear still present in his mind. 

“I never understood why you always liked them so much,” he said in a raspy voice.

“I find Mother Nature’s rage to be a spectacular show. And reminds humanity of how fleeting and ephemeral our existences really are” he answered calmly. Altair only nodded and looked down to the floor where he had discarded his soaking garments.

“I’m sorry I drenched your floor,” he blurted out, realizing only a second too late the words that escaped his lips.

“Was that an apology I heard? Are you feverish or have you finally managed to drive me crazy after all these years?” Malik snarled while bending down to grab the wet robes.

He didn’t wait for an answer, instead he headed for the back of the office leaving Altair’s thin covered frame behind.

“I’ll keep your weapons and gear in my room don’t worry. And don’t’ think you can wander off without I first made sure you aren’t deathly ill, understood?” Malik walked down the corridor and physically felt Altair’s disappointed frown.


	2. Chapter 2

The storm had subsided to a light rain, and the thunders had stopped a few hours ago. The sun was setting over the city.

Altair had fallen asleep about an half an hour after Malik brought him a warm cup of tea to warm him up, not because he  cared  , Allah forbid, but because he didn’t want to deal with a sick Assassin. 

Or at least that was what he kept telling himself.

Malik had worked on a particularly intricate map for the past two hours. His back was stiff and his legs cramped, so he decided to get up and check on the man sleeping in the middle of the bureau.

He had to shoo away a myriad of curious novices during the last few hours and it was proving to be difficult to focus on his task: the youngsters were really adamant to know what was going on inside the office that Malik had to shut the shutters when he caught a glimpse of white robes peeking from the window.

Like everything concerning Altair, it had been exhausting. The amount of fuss and drama surrounding that man was unbelievable.

He crouched down to grab the abandoned cup of tea, still half full, when he sensed Altair’s eyes on him. He glanced up and saw those two amber irises focused on his face.

Then he sneezed like a kitten.

Altair Ibn La-Ahad, one of the most lethal and feared Assassins of the Order sneezed like a damn cat.

It was probably the most adorable sound Malik ever heard, and knowing it came from that man only made it better.

He chuckled aloud, while Altair flushed and looked down in embarrassment.

“You sound ridiculous, do you know that?” He teased still grinning like a fool.

“Do not mock the sick Malik, I still know how to kill you in my sleep” He retorted irritated, his threat loosing effect because of his deep blush.

“Well do not threaten the man who shelters you, for he may leave you to sleep outside tonight” he bit back.

“We both know you would never,” his voice sounded nasal and clogged. He was probably in for a bad cold and a sore throat.

“Why didn’t you come inside sooner you idiot? You could have avoided getting sick you know? If you could only leave your pride at the doorstep for once,” he asked. He didn’t really expect an answer because it was just how Altair was.

After a few moments of silence, while Malik was about to walk back to his desk to wrap up his work, Altair spoke.

“I didn’t really expect you to let me in” he said in a small voice, averting his eyes.

Malik, confused stared at him and then lowered himself to look at him in the eyes  
“Altair, it feels like you’re holding to past wounds more than I do. Let it go, will you? Where you seriously convinced that I would have enjoyed seeing you dying in my garden?” he said with a slight exasperation in his voice.

Altair still didn’t meet his eyes, frowning painfully at the floor. His silence a confirmation of his doubts.

It was weird seeing him without that damn white hood that he always had drawn on, to shield himself from a world that never welcomed him because of his appearance. It was easier like that, hiding, becoming just another white shadow walking down the dusty streets of the Kingdom.

His fair chestnut hair was sticking at odd angles, still not completely dry, and Malik instinctively reached out with his hand to graze Altair’s cheek.

When he realized what was going on and registered the weird and confused expression of Altair’s face, he quickly draw his hand to the man’s forehead.

“I- I was checking for a fever, lo-looks like you don’t have one…” he stuttered stumbling over his own tongue. What the hell had got over him!?

Altair stared at him puzzled and then finally decided that Malik’s explanation, thankfully, made absolute sense. Blessed his terrible social skills and poor understanding of the human nature.

He got up awkwardly and way too quickly. He was about to flee to the garden to breathe some fresh air he suddenly very much needed, but something was grasping at his calf in a vice grip.

He looked down and saw Altair’s hand wrapper around his boot, in a desperate hold.

“Stay” he whispered in a hushered and strained voice, looking in the void in front of him, before glancing up at Malik, the blanket on his head falling back softly. A pair of reddened eyes were asking, no they were begging him, to just stay.

How could Malik deny him anything? If he ever did deny Altair anything in his life after all. 

Unsure he looked in the other’s eyes for a minute longer, gaze lingering, hesitant.

He finally sat down in Altair’s nest of blankets and pillows. Shifting, Altair laid closer to him and leaned on his chest, a reassuring warmth on his body. He put his ear close to his ribs, listening to Malik’s heartbeat, and he finally released a long and heavy sigh, tension evading from his body, relaxing completely against Malik solid frame.

Malik wrapped his arm around Altair and closed his eyes, breathing in the other’s scent. Allowing his guard down just for a little longer.

They stayed like that, open and vulnerable, in an healing silence that both of them deserved after so much resentment.

Almost an half hour later they drifted off, in a serene sleep, their heartbeats as a lullaby in the deep dark night.

The fire went out long ago, and outside the sky had cleared, stars and constellations dancing and shining above them, the cool breeze whispering hushed promises of better and brighter times ahead of them.


	3. Chapter 3

A soft light was filtering through the closed shutters of the office.

Malik cracked his eyes open and was greeted by the mess in the bureau’s main room: discarded blankets were lying around, maps and books still open and scattered on his desk, abandoned cups and plates on the floor close to the nest on the floor.

He registered then a solid warm body close to him, well actually almost on top of him. Then he remembered the events of the day before.

Malik cursed silently and looked down at the sleeping Assassin on his chest.

Altair was sleeping peacefully, the soft sound of his breath coming out a bit faster than normal; to testify of the ugly cold he caught himself. His hair was a bit matted and he looked five years younger, without a single shadow of distress crossing his face.

Malik stared in childish awe: it had been over ten years since he saw Altair this relaxed. He couldn’t really place _why_ the other had suddenly decided that here and now it was the right time to lower his walls, but he was feeling oddly relieved that Altair had done it in his presence. It was some sort of weird privilege to be able to see him like this.

He tried to move, his back protesting at the unwelcomed change, and Malik hissed softly at his sore muscles.

That was enough to wake Altair, who slowly opened his eyes, trying to focus on his surroundings. When he came to his senses, Malik expected him to shoo him away, or to retreat from his sleeping spot, embarrassed. Instead, he briefly glanced at Malik’s face and nestled himself even deeper in the crook of his neck, breathing a content sigh, a small fleeting smile tugging at his lips, so fast one could miss it in a blink of an eye.

It was such a shameless and free gesture that Malik stared down at him in disbelief trying to calm his furious flush and the fluttering warmth spreading in his stomach.

He refused to believe that this ridiculous man was eliciting such a reaction from him. Malik al-Sayf _did not blush_ , and yet he was suddenly feeling like a stupid teenager again.

He cleared his voice and tried to move again, he had things to do, and the world certainly wasn’t going to wait for him to slump around.

“Can you stay still? I’m trying to sleep” Altair had _the nerve_ to say in a hoarse voice, and tightened his arms around Malik’s waist making it almost impossible to breathe.

“I need to open the bureau you idiot, it’s late already and unlike you I have places to be and work to do today” he remarked, without any real venom in his words.

Altar didn’t answer. Instead, he kept ignoring him; a content expression settling on his features, like all the troubles on the planet instantly disappeared leaving him in a hidden shelter of safety.

He tried to free himself from the other’s iron grip, struggling against Altair for a good full minute, the idiot groaning throughout the whole process.

When he was finally free, he adjusted his robes and looked at the other man sprawled on the floor, still half covered in blankets.

Altair looked at him from the floor with a disappointed pout painted on his face.

“Don’t look at me like that, you knew that sooner or later I would have had to get up,” Malik answered placing his hand on his hip. Altair could be really childish sometimes.

Actually, scratch that, he was childish _all_ the time.

“That doesn’t mean that I have to like it” he remarked, still pouting.

“I’m going to prepare you something to eat, and for once in your life try to stay still and rest” and with that Malik turned around to go to the kitchen, while Altair released a pitiful whine that was a premonition of the painful next few days that Malik had to deal with him.


	4. Chapter 4

“Do you have anything else to do besides reading and dying of boredom in this place?”

Malik swore that if he had to hear Altair’s sickly voice again in the next five minutes, he would have smacked him in the head with something extremely heavy.

The doctors had been quite clear that Altair was forbidden outside for at least three days. He miraculously escaped a bad case of pneumonia (if you like to define Malik’s intervention a miracle), but was still feverish and sick with a bothersome cold. This obviously did not stop him from being an annoyance, much to Malik’s dismay.

The man had been pestering him for over _two whole hours_ now and his temper was growing short very quickly. He had tried to force Altair into sleeping some more, reading whatever book he could find closer, or just _shutting the hell up because I am this close in to turning you into a new carpet for the bureau’s floor._

Nevertheless, everything had resulted in Altair losing interest within a matter of minutes.

So now, he was perched on a stool, heavy blanket wrapped around him, leaning on Malik’s desk and fiddling with all that his fingers could reach.

And it was driving him insane.

Malik placed his quill back into the inkstand and stared irritated at the other’s face. Altair was lying his head on the surface of the desk and glanced up at him. He had an expression of innocence painted on his face that made him saw red for a moment. Because the idiot didn’t even see the problem, did he?

“Altair I have to get this done by the time Faris arrives, so would you _please_ let me work in peace?”

Malik looked out the window, it was getting late and he really had to finish this commission. Faris was the leader of the spy network that worked for the Jerusalem’s bureau and he had needed a detailed map of the guard’s barracks. He was a quite friendly man, but surely, he would not be happy to know that his order was delayed because of a pouty child.

“Fine, let me go outside and I promise I won’t annoy you longer.”

“You are not allowed to until me or the doctor says so, you little _aljahim_ “if he thought that this was going to work, Altair was in for a hell of a ride.

He huffed, getting up with a wobbly stance, and went to lay down again in his nest on the floor.

Malik stared at him skeptically: Altair did not just give up an argument without making a fuss about it. Malik gazed at him a little longer, expecting some sort of trap or of guilt trip, but nothing came. Altair was lying still and it looked like he was trying to fall asleep again. Malik spared a last unsettled glance at him and got back to work. Perhaps he was really trying to rest this time.

Malik was going to use every precious second of silence and he wasn’t certainly going to question the other’s man odd behavior if it meant that he could concentrate in peace.


	5. Chapter 5

About an hour of work later the map was done, dry and wrapped up, ready to be picked up by Faris.

When Malik heard the soft _thud_ of feet landing on the floor of the bureau’s garden, he got up and briefly glimpsed at Altair, who was still sound asleep on the floor. Malik didn’t know if he had to worry or to be relieved for these blessed moments of Altair-free time.

He went outside to greet Faris, who was dusting his robes.

“Faris, my friend, how’s been life treating you?” He greeted the other man trying to be as polite as possible. His sore back and messed up sleep schedule making him crankier than usual, which meant a _lot_.

“Malik! It’s good to see you!” Faris hugged him lightly. “You look a bit tired my friend, is everything alright?” Faris asked with underlying concern.

They had known each other long before Malik had took up the position as _Dai_ of the Jerusalem’s bureau, and Faris had always welcomed him during missions, offering shelter and advice.

“It’s been a couple of busy days, I had an- uh _unexpected_ turn of events you see; but I was able to finish the map you asked for. I’ll bring it to you” Malik answered, and turned around to face the door that led inside his office, when he saw Altair’s thin frame leaning on the doorjamb.

Malik’s blood ran cold.

“What the hell are you doing you _‘ahmaq!_? Go back inside!” Malik felt like his soul was about to leave his body. What was the idiot thinking!?

Altair did not even move an inch, and was staring intently at Faris through heated eyes.

“Is that Ibn La-Ahad? What is going on Malik? What is _he_ doing here of all places?” Faris asked perplexed, already shifting in a protective stance. He knew that Altair had cost him everything and knew of the resentment that Malik once held for the other man. Seeing him there must have been indeed quite confusing.

“It’s fine Faris, Altair is just seeking the protection of the bureau. It is my duty as _Dai_ to offer it to every Assassin who needs it. I’ll be back with your map.” Malik said coldly, not meeting Faris eyes, while ferociously pushing Altair back inside.

When they were safely back inside, and he was sure Faris could not heard or see them, he swirled around to yell at Altair.

“Have you lost the last bit of brain that you still had!? What were you thinking Novice?” he spat incredulous at the other Assassin.

Altair just stared at him and visibly clenched his jaw. “I heard voices and I wanted to see what was going on, that’s all” and Malik knew that was a blatant lie. Altair wasn’t an exceptional liar, especially when it came to Malik, who knew how to read him like an open book. More or less.

“Stay still, I need to go back to Faris. I’m not done with you, understood Novice?” he said in a dangerous tone. Altair’s gaze faltered slightly but his face remained impassive.


	6. Chapter 6

After what seemed like an eternity worth of clarifications to a concerned Faris, he managed to convince the man that it was actually fine and he didn’t need to worry about him.

Faris had left about fifteen minutes ago (still not entirely convinced) with his new, masterfully crafted map.

Malik had then proceeded to scream at Altair’s stupidity for about another ten minutes before sitting down at his desk again, still fuming. He was trying to calm himself with one of his favorite tomes, when he heard Altair’s irritating voice.

“He called you _my friend_ “

He said, as if that was enough to explain what he meant.

“Is just stating it going to make me understand, or should I wait for you to elaborate an actual sentence?”

Altair didn’t answer (when did he ever) and kept staring at the void in front of him.

Malik waited a few moments, staring at the man’s profile, and when he started to get up from his chair, Altair spoke again:

“And he hugged you” his glare intensified further.

Malik opened his mouth to blurt out that he could have as many friends as he wanted and he _certainly did not need the permission from Mr. Socially Awkward_ , but a thought made him stop dead in his tracks.

Was it _jealousy_ that tinged Altair’s voice?

“Wait, were you jealous of Faris?” he asked in disbelief, a grin starting to appear on his lips.

Altair just flushed slightly and lowered his head in humiliation, caught red-handed.

“I don’t get jealous Mal” the old nickname slipping through his lips involuntarily

Malik was about to explode in laughter.

“I can’t believe it, the great Master Altair Ibn La-Ahad is jealous of a simple lieutenant” Malik started laughing like a mad man, this had to be the most absurd thing he ever heard.

Altair looked at Malik, who was still snickering like a fool, with a mask of irritation and replied with heavy sarcasm

“Oh, yeah that’s _hilarious_. Keep cackling you asshole. I would like to know if Faris loves your laugh just as much as I do”

When Altair realized what he had said he quickly brought his hand to his mouth, as if he were trying to erase what he had just blurted out.

Malik wasn’t sure he believed his ears. His laugh stopped, his smile fell, replaced by sheer shock.

“Wh- what did you just say?”

Silence was straining and loud, ringing in his ears.

“Nothing” Altair, answered after a few moments, trying to hide his face in his hands.

“What do you think of my laugh?” without even noticing, Malik was already crouching in front of Altair.

“I said, _nothing_ ” Altair snapped, still stubbornly hiding his face.

Malik reached out with his hand, tugging gently at Altair’s fingers making him look up with hesitant eyes.

Then he cupped Altair’s finally visible face and lightly traced the scar crossing his lips, with his thumb.

“What do you think of my laugh Novice?”

Altair audibly swallowed, eyes flickering to Malik’s lips.

“That is the most beautiful sound on this Earth”


	7. Chapter 7

Golden light was washing over the walls of Malik’s room, casting a soft glow on Altair’s form, making his hair shine like a halo.

Malik was slowly carding his fingers through the strands of hazel, breathing softly and basking in the quietude of the moment.

The blankets were soft and welcoming, and from his bed he could easily see the clear sky, painted with the colors of a gorgeous sunset.

Altair was resting peacefully on his chest, his breathing slow and a bit ragged. His eyes were only slightly open, and a beam of bright light coming from the open window, was shining right on his face, illuminating his amber irises, making them shimmer of an impossibly beautiful play of gold.

With a slow movement, Altair grabbed his hand and interlaced his fingers with his own.

He was looking lazily at their joined hands, still not used to this new feeling. Malik smiled softy at his childlike gestures: it was like watching a newborn deer making its first steps.

Altair’s other hand was playing with the hem of his night-blue robes.

“Is it true what you said to Faris?” he questioned in a hushed voice.

“What in particular?”

“That it was only because it was your duty as _Dai_ that you allowed me to stay” he answered, voice laced with expectancy.

“Do you think I would be lying in here with you if it was only my duty?” he replied smirking.

Altair tightened his grip, as to ground himself and closed his eyes, nuzzling deeper on his body. Obvious relief washing over him, as if that single answer meant the world to him.

And it probably did.

“You’re awfully clingy, you know that?” Malik said in a hopelessly affectionate tone.

“Oh, shut up I know you love it”

And in that moment he thought, he would not want to love anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> Pure self-indulgence.  
> Chapters are really short.  
> Meh,  
> Enjoy


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